Dark Sanctuary
by AphroditeLove
Summary: For those Ryou fans, and BakuraxAmane fans. A oneshot story of what I believed as what happened in the mysterious Bakura family, and between Yami Bakura, Amane Bakura, and Ryou Bakura. Nonyaoi, oneshot. YBxA


Title: Dark Sanctuary

Author: AphroditeLove

Pairings: Bakura x Amane

This, is a one-shot story concerning what I believed happened in the mystery of the Bakura family. Since hardly anything is known about the Bakuras other than Yami Bakura lusting after Amane, Ryou's sister once, and Ryou recieving the Millennium Ring from his father and his mother dying in a car accident, nothing is really known abuot the Bakura family. So, since Takahashi won't explain anything and neither will ShonenJump or the anime, I want to elaborate my part of the story of the mysterious Bakura house-hold.

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. Belongs to Takahashi.

I hope you will all enjoy this story, or at least, find some place in your heart to read it. Ryou Bakura fans, maybe this might explain something...or nothing, depending on my story-writing, which literally sucks.

_Dialouge _: Yami Bakura

Dialouge: Amane

Dialouge (after nine years): Ryou

The scene seperators after "Nine Years Later", do not mean that a scene has changed. It is merely a jump between Bakura and Ryou's POVs, because it has greater impact if there is somethign to seperate them. Their remaining paragraphs have the most emphasis than anything else in this story.

* * *

_Nine Years Ago_

_I can't stop thinking about you._

_I can't deny that I lust for you._

_That with every wave of your smooth hand, with every gesture of your porcelain fingers, I can't object that my heart races, and my mind fogs._

_As I watch behind my host's eyes, from his mysterious brown ones to your cerulean blue ones, they trail after your bouncing hair, same shade of white as his, and same style of his. _

_Yet you are nothing like the weak host that I occupy. He is still young, he still needs you to care for. You are but a young woman now, bold and mysterious and capable of anything. There is nothing shy about your blue eyes, your long mane of white, neatly braided and resting upon your shoulder. There is nothing timid of your cheeks, despite their porcelain appearance and rosy flush. There is nothing …absolutely nothing…that is hesitant, timid, shy and withdrawing…about you._

_And this is why your brother runs in your arms when he sees me. This is why your brother cries when he finds me, behind him, my transparent, full-grown form, staring at you with passion and desire. This is why he sobs and finds comfort in your arms, because he himself cannot find it himself._

You are my savior, my heaven-sent angel.

Though there is nothing good about you, I cannot help but hope, that every time I wrap my arms around my brother, I can somehow feel you.

Yet it never happens, and as I cradle him in my arms, his wide, colossal brown eyes twinkling with tears and his small nose pink, but stare at you, shimmering and transparent, staring back at me.

My heart races but I cannot show it. I must be insane to have found someone like you. You and him are just the same…yet entirely different. How is it that Fate has managed to put you in his body, and not my own? No doubt either of us would ever contradict such an arrangement.

If he fears you so much, why can't you stay with me? If he is terrified of you so, can I stay with you? Must he cry in my arms when he sees you, when he is afraid of you? For I had asked for you; it was me who asked for one Item as souvenir, but it was he who received it.

Does he know that I love you? Will he ever accept it?

How can I love you, when I am the sister of an angel, and you are his other half, the spirit that houses within a relic of dark magic?

Can I love you?

_He is but a child, he will never know._

_He will never know how you used to sit in your room, in your own little world. He will never know how lonely your felt, because of your attending father and your mother's love for him. He will never know the grief you suffered when you found out your illness, because he is too young, and he is too dim._

_He will never know how you felt me, how you felt my presence. You are but the first to approach me with curiosity, instead of fear and neglect. Am I too selfish and insatiable to fall in love with an angel like you? Your white, pure hair past your waist, curling at the ends. Your deep blue eyes just as wide as his, lined with graceful lashes and your flushed cheeks. How your slender figure, curvaceous and wondrous, reflect the beauty of even the goddess herself, even though I do not care for gods or goddesses._

_You are the first to approach me with care. Normally I'd spite you, hate you, drive you away…but you are not weak. You are not my host. You are not this whimpering child that I cannot possibly ever use to accomplish anything in my life. _

_And what's worse… it is because of his simpering, whimpering, pathetic child body of his that is protecting me, preventing me for my need… my need for you, my lust for you…my every hope and desire for you. For how will he react if he finds himself in your arms, feeling your lips with his, when he should only cuddle and hug?_

_He is nothing but a fool. And I cannot believe that a fool can stand in my way of loving you._

He is not a fool.

Believe it or not, he will one day take after me. Though I may be bold and I may be witty, he is kind, and he is polite. I know one day he will become a heaven-sent gentleman, one that will smile and wave to everyone upon the earth, no matter what deeds he or she has done.

I am courageous, bold, and defiant. This is why my mother adores him, and not me. I am not a lady of my stature; if anything, I am a rugged, dirty little thief that steals the pencils from father's desk and swipes the china from the cabinet.

And yet, Yami, Darkness, Spirit, or whomever you may be called, he still cares for me. He has seen me take things away from others, has seen me steal things from others. And although he is merely eight years old, he understands the wrongness of it, and yet, still comforts me in it.

_Sister will get better, _he would say. _Sister has a good heart. A good, strong heart._

He and I have always been close. How can I tell him that I no longer have my good, strong heart?

And I know, dear Darkness, Spirit, Bakura….had he been older, had he been my age and known as much as I have learned, he would've admitted that he has a weak heart, a soft, tender heart. And Darkness, Spirit, Bakura…don't judge him upon it. It may one day become an advantage to you.

_An advantage to me? Not likely, Amane. _

_Amane…my beautiful, lovely Amane. How your name just rolls of my tongue and finds peace in the wind. Amane._

_He will not stand between us. You had fought too much to awaken me, to fight for me. In your room, swirling ouija boards in your circle of candles, beckoning me, chanting for me…freeing me…too ironic that your hard work for myself has landed upon as a burden upon your brother, rather than a comfort for you._

_You are lonely, my Amane. I have been lonely in my life as well. You are, as I said before, but a first to approach me with respect and care. We are very much alike, you realize? Though soft and tender on the outside, admit it, Amane. Your heart is as cold as mine, as dark as mine. We are made for each other, and only each other._

You are wrong.

I do love you, dear Spirit. But my heart is not cold, and is not dark. It is merely being misled, as your heart once was.

And yes, you are right. We are made for each other, and only each other. We are compatible with one another. Not Ying and Yang, but a perfect mix. Ying and Yang could never be together, unless one part is in another. You and him…you are nothing alike, and therefore, you two will never be complete as one.

He already as a darker side of him, and I can tell. Perhaps you will influence it, but he is beginning to take after me. I have seen it. The spirits around me have spoken.

_Mysterious brown eyes, empty and warm. Harboring pain and loneliness._

I do not want him to be lonely, Spirit, Bakura. I have suffered loneliness, and he is too young to understand it, to comprehend it. He still fears you, and he will always fear you.

Which is why I cannot love you, no matter how I wish it was so. I can feel your eyes trailing after my back, softer and lovelier than my own. I can feel your breaths, your voice, against my cheek, swirling me from behind as a spirit would… because you are one, and because I am a messenger of Fate.

I wish to feel you against me, Bakura. I want you, and I need you. I need your presence here, with me, to care for me. I may be strong in your eyes, Bakura, but in truth, I am weak. I am nothing. My mother loves him, and my father is always away. You are my only savior, my only companion. And I…I am a surrendered victim of witchcraft, yearning to possess the powers of the Shadows, the magic from whence _you _came.

I know of every magic upon the Earth…witchcraft, faeries, nymphs of the oceans and pixies of the skies…I can talk to them all, I can feel their power within me…because I was neglected and because I was cold, I needed them with me, here for me. I had sold my soul from being normal, to being a being of magic and hell.

And what I wish most, my dear Bakura…my beautiful, wondrous, handsome Bakura…is you. I want to be able to be like you, to possess the power that you possess. You were merely a lonely child in need of comfort, and in searching for it, you found magic. I am the very same, and I wish I could be the same as you…. A spirit, so that we can live in peace, forever…together.

I can see you…I can see you in your true form. Your croppy white hair, your deep, brown-red eyes. While those same eyes terrified my brother and still terrifies him so, I find love within them…love, adoration, and acceptance. How you would wrap your transparent arms around my waist, and I would see the pale pigment of your skin…a deep, rich caramel and your equally pale and striking scar.

I know can see us, Bakura. I know he can. His eyes frighten me, Bakura, while your eyes don't. They can stare at me, wide and huge, colossal and innocent, pure and naïve. They stare at me from the darkness, almost like a conscience that I lack. And I can see him staring at us now, Bakura…in horror and in terror. He knows, Bakura. He knows.

_But he is merely a child, and he can do nothing to prevent me from you. As long as he possesses the Ring, I can power myself to will a faint form of my own, and claim you as much as I can. Amane. I love you so much, that it is no longer love, or adoration, or even lust. It is…and obsession. An obsession._

_I just can't stop thinking about you. I can't. Fate has always withered my life in its dog-pawed hands, and I know it will do so again, between you and me. Your illness…it is not something genetic. It is because it is your punishment, your punishment for betraying your race as a normal human, and attempting to become something like me. This is why I am cursed, and so are you._

_I am cursed with the inability to die. And believe me, Amane…my sweet, dear Amane…that is a curse. Knowing that one day you might suffer the same fate of death, and that I cannot join you, because I am in this_ bloody wretched pathetic childish body of your brother_, tears my heart into nothing but tatters. I will be able to watch you die in front of me again, just like my mother, my father, and my own sister, five thousand years ago. _

_I still have nightmares about it, Amane. And thanks to you…your boldness, your courage, and your strong presence, it eases me of my own weakness, so I may become just as strong and just as hard as before._

You poor, beautiful thing…

Yes, I know. Your mother. Your father. Your sister. All of them dead in boiling pot of terror. And like myself, you comfort me when I am alone…when my brother is with my mother, and when my friends abandon me for purity…I can find myself in darkness, with you. I can comfortable with darkness.

I love the darkness. I love _you, _Bakura.

But though I can love a darkness, Bakura, I am not dark. You are not dark…at least…not evil. You are merely misunderstood, as I am. And I do think I should tell my brother, Bakura. He is a pure light of his own…your Hikari, your Light, your other Half. He will understand, even though he is merely eight.

_You cannot even muster the courage to tell him that you are dying, Amane. You cannot even tell him so, even though he is right behind you in the car seat, and your mother is driving you to the hospital. You cannot even tell him that you might die tonight, and that you are in love with me. You are right, Amane. He is not dumb. I can see him now._

_I can feel him. I know I am scowling, and believe me, that is something worth scowling about. I can see how his eyes flitter back and forth, almost worriedly. He knows._

Can you check with him? I don't want him to worry, Bakura…

_As you wish, Amane…_

_((What is wrong with Amane?)) he is asking. ((We're going to the hospital…is something wrong with Mother? How come Amane won't talk to me?))_

Oh no…he knows, Bakura. He knows.

_And we cannot tell him, Amane, because he will tear us apart. He will never allow you to be anywhere near me. He knows me. He knows that I am evil, and that I am torturous, and despicable. You may accept it, but he won't. I know it, Amane. I know it._

_I know it._

* * *

_Nine Years Later_

I would've accepted it, Amane.

Now as I stand by your gravestone, I cannot help but regret asking you at least once. I know that I was merely eight, and that I could not have possibly understood what you felt. But I know, Amane. I know now, and I would've accepted it.

I cannot tell you the pain of living with him alone has tortured me, Amane. How after your death he would do nothing but sulk, and how he'd let loose his rage upon me, beating me senseless and calling me a weakling.

You could not believe the pain that I felt, Amane, when your hand left my small one, and reached out towards his invisible one. You are my sister, and I would've done anything for you. Yet, I could not help be feel a little hurt when you whispered his name instead of mine, when you wished for him instead of me. I was your _brother!_

And also…you cannot believe the pain that he felt, Amane, when your hand laid limp in his. I felt it through our bond, and only Lord knows, Amane. I cannot describe the rage that he went through at your loss, nor at the pain, the anger, the frustration that he later poured upon me, hurting me, _blaming me_, for your death.

_You should've been the one!_ he would yell. _Bloody, mad hikari! You should've been the one! With your weak, pathetic body and your soft, pathetic heart, you should've died! _

And how many times I wish I had, Amane. How many times I wished I had.

But you were right, Amane. I am like you.

I wanted to bring you back so bad. I wanted to tell you that I still loved you, that I still cared for you. After all, you were…you _are _my sister, and I would've done anything to make you feel at ease. Even if it meant allowing you to fall in love with the darkness that lives in me…the darkness that tortured my friends and beaten me senseless. Anything to make you happy.

And when I write letters to you, on my ouija board…._your _ouija board…I can see your writing write back, scrawling on my sheets. You still love me, Amane, I know it. Sometimes your inked words would be dropped with tears, and I could only imagine how an angel like you could cry.

If only he could've spoken to you too, Amane. With your advanced powers and my weak ones, I was glad we could communicate through my letters. Yet, he could not. And perhaps that was why he hated me, and that was why he loathed me.

But we have set our differences aside now, Amane. He has finally come out of mourning, and I have brought him here, in front of your grave, so he may properly give you a gift he wished he could've given when you were alive.

* * *

_Upon the smooth, pale stone, where the neatly cut grass had bordered…a long, pale white hand gently laid a single rose upon it, its stem long and willowy, and its blood-crimson bud just blooming._

_I still love you, Amane. Rest in peace._

_We have set our differences aside, and you were right, Amane. He is not dumb. And you were right, Amane. He is like you. There are sometimes when I feel human, I feel as though I can talk to him, just as I used to talk to you. _

_He has changed very much, Amane. Even though he is still the gentleman that you imagined, he is complete, like you. He has a darkness of his own, his own little pleasure of the night, despite how small it is. _

_And when I yearn for you in my soulroom, Amane, he would talk me. He would ask, "Yami…? Are you alright?" and we'd eventually talk about you, and he'd cry in my arms. I felt as though by hugging him, it would bring me some sense of you…after all, he should've been born the girl._

_May you rest in peace forever, Amane. When I am defeated one day, perhaps I will join you. Perhaps I will be able to redeem myself, through your brother's care. Perhaps I may join you in the Kingdom of Osiris._

_One can only hope, but I will do so. _

_He and I have always used your favourite deck in all our battles. It reminded us so highly of everything you worked for, everything you stood for. Your love for the dead, and your love for magic._

_May you rest in peace forever, Amane, in your own Dark Sanctuary._

_I love you._

**

* * *

**

I am glad he has a change of heart, Amane. He must truly love you enough to do as you wished…to protect me as he would've protected you.

I am sorry I was saddled with him instead of you. I am sorry that he could not have you, and you could not have him. You have no idea how much guilt I felt when I realized it…when I realized that I had stood between your dreams and his, without ever meaning to. And for that, I am truly sorry.

As I sink down to my knees, my fingertips trailing about your gravestone letters, I cannot help but let a tear roll down my cheek again. If only you had told me, Amane. If only you had admitted your love for him, your care for him.

You would've been proud, Amane. A Darkness and a Light finally becoming of terms.

I smile sadly, getting up, leaving my bouquet at your gravestone feet.

Bakura really loves you, Amane. And because of your care, he has become my savior, and my angel, and my darkness. And although he may not care for me as he cared for you, I know you would've been proud of me.

Even though you cannot whisper back another word, I am still glad that I can talk to you. You could always accept everything…and anything.

I am honored, delighted, and proud to be your younger brother.

And for that…for being Ryou Bakura, younger brother of Amane Bakura, I will always treasure him, as my darkness, as my yami, in honor of you.

Rest in peace forever, Nii-san.

* * *

Author's Note/Epilouge:

My perspective as to why there are huge loopholes in the Bakura-Amane-Ryou section. Some say she died of illness, some say she died of a car crash, and some said she was younger than Ryou and older than Ryou. Although I would prefer her to be younger than Ryou, this is my version of how things went along.

It is known that Yami Bakura had an obsession of Amane, and instead of creating a Mary-sue, I wanted to produce a sister whom had Ryou's more…disconcerting personality. (AKA, his ability to pop out of nowhere and how his eyes are so huge they seem to be looking at everything and nothing at the same time…). So hence, I created an older sibling of Ryou Bakura, who was obsessed with magic so she could escape her lonely life, and in return, find herself in the arms of a spirit who truly loved/obsessed with her back.

So with this story, I've also explained her death, and why Bakura might hate Ryou for anything. Bakura had always struck me as a person to loathe Ryou for being a weak, simple-minded hikari, but as in the Battle City Blimp Arc, Bakura did save Ryou once from being mentally disabled for life from Slifer's attack. And because that was the only time Bakura ever really did show much compassion for Ryou, I decided that perhaps he did it because of the promise he had made to Amane long ago, that he'd protect her brother when she wasn't around.

This story was really passive, and really sad. I wanted to write a tale, an explanation…anything…to explain why Ryou would write letters to the dead (as he is shown doing in the manga), why he and Bakura both accepted an Occult deck, (as Ryou doesn't seem to be a person to like occults…), and also link in why Bakura loved Amane and why Ryou ended up the way he did.

I hope this was an alright story for you guys. There are not many BakuraxAmane pairings out there, despite I think it would be an excellent paring. But I had wrote this, not to entertain you all (though if I had, then I'm quite satisfied), but because I wanted to express my opinion on a matter that had been bothering me for a while. If I wanted to entertain you, I would've written more BakuraxMalik and MarikxRyou.

But since Ryou was a mysterious character, and is a little unbalanced without Bakura's help, I wanted to explain why I thought so, and that Bakura isn't the only thing in his life that could've resulted in his actions now. Look carefully in the anime (or maybe not, as I noticed this immediately about Ryou), when Ryou is alone, he gets a very distant look in his eyes…as though he's seeing something no one else can see, and is concentrating hard on that one thing. How he appears from nowhere in Duelist Kingdom without the help of Yami Bakura, and how every time Yugi turns his back, Ryou's faces falls back into a passive, more sad demeanor. I used to find that disturbing, and untrustworthy of Ryou's innocent character, and hence, after writing this, I have decided that Ryou is not as innocent and childish as he seems, and he should be recognized and understood for that.

Thank you for reading!

AphroditeLove.


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